


Weired

by creativwritingmind



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Coping, Established Relationship, F/M, Love, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 13:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativwritingmind/pseuds/creativwritingmind
Summary: He's weired. But he is more special then anything.





	Weired

Staying completly still is hard, when it’s tickling and itching and giving her chills in some places. But Jenna doesn’t move an inch, her body laying motionless on the side, her breaths deep and slow, eyes closed to fake she’s sleeping. He probably knows she’s not, but she also knows that if she’d give him confirmation, he would stop right away. It’s weired, strange, a little unsettling maybe, but it’s what he needs and she knows that, always had known. Never forgetting the shame in his eyes when he did it the first time, and she confronted him, asked him where that's coming from, she never brought it up again, and never asked him to stop. It’s not completly unwanted, it’s a different form of attention still, and she has gotten used to it, like she’s gotten used to all that quirks and edges that come along with his love. Feeling him shifting she sighs on the shudder that runs down her back when his nose keeps on traveling, exploring the valleys and hills of her body, taking in her scent, sucking it deep into his lungs, as if he is trying to get a part of her into his system. From her collarbone to her chest he goes, a nearly not feelable touch, sometimes only his breath connecting with her skin. It stops at one of her nipples, and she stops to breath, bites her lip, waiting for him to maybe finally go on, go further, kiss that flesh, swollen and hard, waiting for attention. Instead he noses it, nudges it soflty before he goes on, deeper, lower, not missing an inch. He won’t stop until he has inhaled all of her, even her toes, her thights, her core. It’s weired. But it’s what he is. 

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Jenna is patient. She has to be, although being hectic has never been part of her personality really. They won’t have to go until at least an half hour later, and she has planned that time into their shedule, she always does. That she’s in the car already is not an expression of how much she’s annoyed by it, it’s one of respect, because she knows he hates it to be watched when he’s doing it. Closing her eyes she traces his ways in her mind. He’s leaving the bathroom right now. He’s meassuring the steps he needs to get to the front door. They need to be an exact number, and if he messes up he’ll have to walk back and start again. His shoes are already placed in the right position, Jenna has made that her habit, to at least help him somehow on this. The laces will be tied and opened again, one, two, three, four…eight times if he’s nervous, two more if he’s panicing. There’s a new keychain, and he’ll hesitate to take it, but the old has fallen off after all those years, so he will have to get used to it, as hard as it hits him. They have removed half of the locks, on request of his therapist, that thinks they need to expose him sometimes, to make him widen his boundaries. He still will lock and open the remaining ones conscientiously, many times, depending on how keyed up he is by now. Hearing his footfall through the slightly cracked car window she doesn’t open her eyes until he’s settling in the drivers seat, pushes in the keys, leans back and waits for a moment. It costs him a lot to just start the engine once, she knows that, and she knows he does it for her, to keep the weirdness out of her life as much as he can.

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The sun is blinding and the wind is warm. It’s a beautiful day, one of the rare off ones when they’re out touring. Jenna is glad he came by, she knows he doesn’t like being on the beach all too much, but he loves her, so he bears with it. There are children running past them, a little sand been thrown on their blanket in the process. His face twitches a bit, but he remains calm, as she quickly brushes it off to make him comfortable again. The drink is cold and soothing, sipping on it Jenna relaxes, takes in the fuzz all around them, all those families and couples enjoying their holiday. She startles a bit when her arm is snatched suddenly, maybe even a bit forcefull, and a pen is pressed to her skin. It’s nothing new, still surprising every time, and she has learned to keep still, quiet, even see the beauty in the act that seems so, so strange. Letter after letter, word after word is written on her skin, in carefull, neat manner, as if they would form a prayer, and maybe they do. She’s not always sure about that. People sent them strange looks, but they both choose to ignore it. Later, back in the bus, he’ll copy the lyrics, transmit them into his book, but for now she’s his canvas, and he’s painting his creation on her body, and into her soul.

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Unobtrusive she clears the suit away, places it back into the wardrobe, joining his countless other ones. He had decided on wearing it for the awards yesterday, but she’s aware his opinion changed over night, without him needing to tell her. He was trembling way more then ususal when shaving his face, and muttering absently, lost in himself. Digging out some casual pants and a hoodie Jenna rearranges the clothes order new. It’s always socks first, then boxers, then shirt, the long sleeve. Pants come last and sometimes just close before they’re leaving. She doesn’t question it, not anymore, not after she had seen his reaction to a wrong chronology once. His eyes are downcast as he walks into their bedroom, shuffles over and starts to dress. She knows he thinks she’s dissapointed, that he doesn’t want a glow up, when she’s looking so hot and dolled for that occasion, still she doesn’t correct him, not yet. He needs silence now, needs to focus and settle, the evening will be long and straining and throwing him off balance enough already. They join hands in the car, they never disengage until they reach their seats. Soon he’ll have to walk backstage and get ready for the performance. Jenna is glad to know Josh will take over then, in his own ways to cope, his own technique to handle her husbands weirdness. The moment he leaves her she’s grabbing her phone though, choosing a picture they took in the dressroom earlier. „I’m glad you are not normal Ty. I think you are the greatest!“ she writes, posting it quickly, knowing he will check his phone the moment the notification goes off. It’s the truth, it’s what she thinks, feels, breathes, every moment she’s with him. He is weired. But he is more special then anything.


End file.
